The Shirt Off My Back
by daisyb10
Summary: How hard can it be to buy a new shirt? Surprisingly difficult when House is involved. This House and Wilson oneshot was written for the Saturday Night Writer's Challenge. There's no slash, no smut, just a lot of fun. Enjoy!


**A/N:** This one-shot was written for the Saturday Night Writer's Challenge at Fox/House and it incorporates the following three prompts:  
1. Opening - "You know what? You can drive yourself home." 2. Closing - "We should have bought the green one. 3. Colour – Blue

This fic is a House/Wilson comedy - no slash, no smut, just fun. Enjoy!

o0o0o

_**The Shirt Off My Back**_

"You know what? You can drive yourself home."  
"RIGHT NOW!"

Wilson veered his car sharply to the right, came to a screeching halt in front of the Princeton Shopping Centre, slammed the shifter into park and killed the ignition.  
House glared at him, his nostrils flaring.  
"Geez Wilson, are you trying to get us both killed? My arm hurts …" House said, rubbing his right arm vigorously.  
"The force of that turn plastered me against the car door …"

A maniacal grin spread across Wilson's face.

"Well actually, I'm only trying to kill _one_ of us and that would be _you_ !".  
Wilson shook his head. He was utterly and completely fed up. He threw his keys at House.

"_Here_ … here are the car keys. _Go home._ I'll take a cab back to the hospital and pick up my car later." Wilson rested his head on the steering wheel.

"What seems to be the problem?" House asked innocently. So innocently, in fact, that Wilson was almost convinced that House truly had no idea what was the matter.

"What's the problem? …WHAT'S THE PROBLEM? … YOU!!  
Ever since we left the hospital, all you've been doing is whining and complaining about coming shopping with me."

Wilson counted to ten and then turned to face House.

"Look … I asked you to come along with me as a friend. I know that you have no taste – "  
"Hey … that hurts!" House pouted.

Wilson held a finger up to his lips.

"Don't interrupt … or interest in clothes, but I could use a bit of moral support here."  
"I'm nervous."  
"I'm going to propose to the love of my life tonight and all I want from you is the pleasure of your company while I buy a new shirt for this auspicious occasion."

"But I hate shopping Daddy …" House said in his whiniest voice, "It's boring … "

"HOUSE! I meant what I said. Either take the car keys and drive yourself home or SHUT UP!"_  
_"This dinner is important to me … I want to look nice for Lisa."

"Humph …" House grumped, "Keep your car keys … c'mon, let's get this over with. Where are we going?" They got out of the car and walked to the main entrance of the mall.

"Here … _**Davidson's**_." Wilson held the luxurious oak door open for House.  
"**_Davidson's_** … are you insane?" hissed House. "It's the most expensive store in Princeton."

"House, I can afford it … how often does a guy get engaged?"  
"Well in your case … about three times too many!" snarked House.

House hated hoity-toity stores.  
He hated the décor.  
He hated the over-priced merchandise.  
And most of all, he hated the snotty staff.

The store was deathly quiet … quieter than a morgue.  
House glanced surreptitiously from side to side as he followed Wilson across a foyer tiled with glistening Turkish marble.

The _**Davidson's**_ clerks were perched behind the counters like vultures on a fence.  
He could feel them watching their every move; assessing their wealth, criticizing their dress, all the while trying to decide whether it was in their best interests to pounce … or simply leave them to rot, like carrion under the blistering sun of a forgotten highway.

House was spooked.  
He reached for the one thing that always helped him calm his nerves – a sucker.  
"What the _hell_?" he said, far too loudly.  
"What? What's the matter now?" Wilson turned to look at House

"This sucker is **BLUE**!"

"And that would be a problem because?" Wilson asked, well aware of the attention directed their way.

"Who in their right mind would ever want a_ bluuuue_ sucker?  
House pulled it from his mouth.  
"It's … it's … yucky!" he said, screwing up his face to accurately reflect his disgust.

"I'm sorry, sir … we do not allow the consumption of any food or beverages in the store."  
"What?"

House spun around to find a tall, severe-looking woman breathing down his neck.She was in her sixties, and wore a simple black dress with a single strand of cultured pearls around her remarkably wrinkle-free neck. Elegant, sophisticated. You know the sort … the kind of woman that works for a lark, not because she needs the money, but because it fills the boredom of her days between beauty appointments, charity benefits and tennis with Muffie at twelve.

"Your lollypop, sir … "she said, more forcefully.  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you be so kind as to get rid of it for me please?" House asked with a mischievous look on his face.  
"Certainly sir."  
She held out her hand.  
House gave the sucker one last lick, then handed it over.  
She stared at the sticky blue disk that was welded to the palm of her hand.  
"_You're disgusting_ …" she sneered.

o0o0o

"VIOLET!"  
House, Wilson … and Violet looked up at the imposing figure standing before them.  
At six-foot-two, House was rarely looked down upon, quite literally, by anyone.  
_He reminds me of someone …_

"Yes, Mr. Glossop …" she said timidly.  
"I will take over here Violet … _you_ are excused." His accent bore the traits of the British upper class – plummy vowels and crisp elocution.  
"But sir …"  
"I _said, _you are excused Violet. I will not discuss this matter with you in front of our guests."  
Violet slipped away.

"I do apologize sir and hope that you will forgive that most unfortunate remark."  
"Sure, not a problem." House said, still taken aback.  
"Now … how may I be of assistance?"  
"I'd like to buy a new shirt … the best quality you have. I wear a …" Wilson began.  
"A 15 1/2" neck, 34" sleeve, sir?" asked Glossop.  
"That's amazing … how did you know?" said an astonished Wilson.  
"Years of experience sir ... years of experience. And do you have a colour preference?"  
"Yes, green please and I'd like French cuffs." Wilson added.  
"Certainly sir. Right this way."

Glossop led House and Wilson to a wall lined with luxurious display cases filled with shirts in every size, colour and fabric imaginable.

Wilson brushed his fingers through his hair as he pondered the selection before him.

"Now sir … you said green, did you not?" Wilson nodded.

"Very good sir. In green I can offer you a fairly wide selection of colours. We have …" Glossop paused to take catch his breath, " Asparagus, Celadon, Chartreuse, Emerald, Fern Green, Forest Green, Hunter Green, Jade Green, Jungle Green, Kelly Green, Lime Green, Moss Green, Myrtle, Olive Green, Pear, Persian Green, Pine Green, Sea Green, Shamrock Green, Spring Green, Spring Bud, Tea Green and British Racing Green."

"I'm sorry … I didn't quite get all of that." quipped House. Glossop sighed almost imperceptibly.  
"We have Asparagus, Celadon, Chartreuse, Emerald, Fern Green, Forest …" he began.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Glossop. _I_ was paying attention …" began Wilson, "And I'd like something similar to a shirt I already have."  
"That's dumb … if you already have it, why not buy something different?" House snarked.

"Because, it's my best shirt and I can't wear it tonight; it's being cleaned. Oh and let me answer your next question … it's at the dry cleaners because somebody … and that would be _you_ House … pelted me with blueberries yesterday and as a result, I have stains all over the front of my _favourite_ shirt."

"I was just using your nipples for target practice …" House began.  
"Yea, at the expense of my $200.00 shirt, which by the way, you're paying for, if it can't be cleaned." warned Wilson.

"Is there anything that catches your fancy sir?" Glossop asked, standing patiently, waiting for Wilson's decision.

"I'd like that one … it's perfect."  
"Ah very good choice sir … _Tea Green_ is a most subtle selection." Glossop said approvingly.

"I'll take it …"  
"No he won't …" House injected. "Don't buy a green shirt, buy a blue one. You like blue better."  
"No House, YOU like blue better …" countered Wilson.  
"What do you have in blue, Mr. Glossop?" asked House.  
"House, I don't want a blue shirt." protested Wilson.  
"Cuddy likes men in blue shirts … you _have_ to buy a blue shirt … _trust me_ …"  
"Ha! Trust you? Cuddy likes YOU in a blue shirt. She likes ME in a green one. I'm buying a green shirt."  
"No you aren't! Mr. Glossop? Show us the blue shirts, please." House followed Glossop to the next display case with Wilson in tow.

"Well, in blue we have Alice Blue, Aquamarine, Azure Blue, Baby Blue, Bondi Blue, Cerulean, Cobalt Blue, Cornflower Blue, Cyan, Dark Blue, Denim, Electric Blue, Indigo Blue, Light Blue, Midnight Blue, Navy Blue, Periwinkle, Persian Blue, Powder Blue, Prussian Blue, Robin's Egg Blue, Royal Blue, Sapphire Blue, Steel Blue, Teal, Turquoise, Ultra Marine, Viridian … and _finally_ … Blue.

"Just plain blue?" House and Wilson said in unison.  
"Yes, gentlemen … just plain blue." confirmed Glossop.

"We'll take that one!"  
"The _Periwinkle_?"  
"Yes!" said House.  
"No!" said Wilson.

"You're buying a blue shirt." pushed House.  
"No, I'm buying the green."  
"Blue!"  
"Green!"

"BLUE!" said House  
"GREEN!" said Wilson  
"**GREEN!"** said House  
"**BLUE!"** said Wilson

"You heard Dr. Wilson, Mr. Glossop … he'll take the periwinkle!" _Ha! Works every time!  
_"Very good sir. I'll wrap it up!"  
House smiled to himself.  
_I've got it … Jeeves …_

"What just happened here, House?" asked a bewildered Wilson.  
"Nothing happened Wilson, you just decided to go with the blue shirt, that's all. Good choice, by the way …"

Wilson was still shaking his head as they drove away from the mall.

o0o0o

"Okay, now I'm going to run up to my office and get those test results and then I'll be right back. Don't touch anything while I'm gone. I _mean_ it, House …"

House watched as Wilson disappeared into the hospital and tapped his fingers on the dashboard impatiently.

_Maybe some music would be nice … I'll just turn the key back in the ignition … What's Wilson got on his presets?_

_Preset No. 1 … Classical … nah, let's switch it to heavy metal …  
__Preset No. 2 … Pop … yuck, how about some jazz? …_

After re-setting all twelve of Wilson's radio stations, House moved on to the seats.

_Let's see … no … too high … the back's not right … the seat's too far forward …  
__What's in his glove compartment?_

_Maps, Kleenex, Tic Tacs …  
__Gloves? I've never knew anyone who actually kept gloves in a glove compartment …_

_Spare change … I'll put that in my pocket … A condom? Wilson … you sly dog …  
__This is boring … I thought that I'd find at least one pair of Cuddy's thongs in here …_

"House … what did I tell you? Out of there … and _what_ did you do to my seat?"  
"Did your test results come in?" House asked, trying to deflect the attention away from himself. He studied the expression on Wilson's face. "Not good?"

"No, they were _very_ good in fact. The tests confirmed that my patient's cancer is in remission."  
"Well that's good, right? Why the gloomy face?" asked House.

Wilson handed House a small shopping bag. "This is why … it's from Lisa … read the note."  
"What? Did she dump you?" House asked unfolding the card.  
" 'Cause if she did, I can … uh oh …"

"_Uh oh_ is right. Do you know what's in that bag? Don't take it out … you'll destroy it, I don't know how, but you will. It's a tie. A beautiful _green_ silk tie. Read the note House … out loud …"

_My Dearest James,_

_I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to our dinner tonight. I was out shopping and I saw this tie and I just had to buy it for you. I hope you'll wear it tonight … perhaps with that lovely green shirt of yours ...  
__See you at seven …_

_With Love,_

_Lisa_

House carefully folded the note and placed it back in the shopping bag.  
"I guess this means …" he began.

"_Don't_ … _don't_ say a word House. We're going to drive back to the mall in silence … no, on second thought, maybe we'll listen to some nice classical music. That will help calm my nerves … just press number 1, House …"

_I'm in trouble … I re-programmed it to the heavy metal station … Wilson's going to kill me …  
__Oh, what the hell … in for a penny, in for a pound … _

He couldn't resist.  
The temptation was too great.  
And so right before he pressed the first button on Wilson's radio, he muttered the following words, secure in the knowledge that the forthcoming music would easily drown out the string of expletives that were sure to come his way.

"I told you we should have bought the green one."

**FIN**

A/N: Thank you for reading "The Shirt Off My Back". It's been a pleasure sharing this story with you.  
Daisy


End file.
